It's been ten years since I served, and holy shit, nothing has changed. It's like every restaurant has the same few types of people working there. Some snippets from tonight:
Manager: "Run this to table 310!"
Me: "I can't. I'm running to my own tables right now."
Manager: [proceeds to load up a tray]
Me: "No, I can't."
Manager: [tells me to take tray]
Me: "Okay. Can you run my food to my tables?"
Me: [avoids the kitchen for the rest of the night except to check on my own orders because I've been running EVERYONE'S orders ALL NIGHT and my tables are having to watch me constantly bring other people food even though they've been waiting forever due to the backlog in the kitchen]
Like, we get it -- food needs to be run out. But if I tell you I can't, you need to accept that I can't. I'm not lying or making things up, and none of us has the time to sit down and have a conversation about why I can't run food at that moment. It sucks, but at the end of the day, I'm basically a contractor, and I get paid by my customers, not by the restaurant.
Then we have "Patsy." She's a career server. Probably in her 50s. Bossy. Task master. Keeps getting wider and wider, so EVERYONE has to move when she comes through the door. The one you want to work a party, but not someone who is pleasant to work with:
Patsy: [aggressively] "DID YOU ROLL YOUR SILVERWARE?"
Me: "Can you find a better way to ask that question?"
Patsy: [shamingly] "YOU NEED TO ROLL YOUR SILVERWARE!"
Me: "Do I report to you?"
Patsy: [school marmishly] "LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU'RE DONE WITH YOUR SILVERWARE OR YOU CAN'T CLOCK OUT."
Me: "Nah, I'm good." (Because, you know, I took care of all of my side work already, and I don't need her for that.)
Patsy: [huffs and puffs and realizes she doesn't intimidate or get to boss around everyone in the restaurant, probably goes and tattles to management like she does every time someone lets her know that she needs to chill. They want her gone but she's good at serving.]
And then there's Jenny. Jenny is a diva -- she doesn't run food, doesn't bus tables, doesn't scrape plates before throwing them at the dishwashers. She's the one who finds the new people and makes them do all of her work for her, but she'd never dream of sharing tips with the people who do everything for her except take and enter orders. No one knows how she keeps her job. She loves to take huge parties because she can get a lot of money, even though she barely does any work for it herself.
We also had Grace on staff tonight. Grace is a decent server but a frazzled and fragile train wreck of a human being. She stakes out her own little spot in the back because the front is too crowded, but if you go back there to get drinks or ring in an order, she tells you how she's overstimulated and needs everyone to get out of her space. She has an hourly cry and has to go outside to vape/smoke, but she eventually makes it through the evening. She'll rage-quit in a month or two and take another casual dining serving gig somewhere else, or she'll come back when she realizes she's exhausted all of her other options.
Now we get to Felicia. Felicia is an okay server, but she's WAY aggressive when it comes to her tables. She'll knock you out of the way to get to something, even if you're right in the middle of something (ESPECIALLY breadsticks). She'll squawk if you look at any of her tables (but she'll let you bus them). She wants huge sections and all the parties. She's a go-getter who wants tables flipped every 20 minutes, probably because she calls in sick for at least 1/3 of her shifts and needs to make up for the lost tips.
Honorary mention: Suzie the hostess. She's 17 and spends most dinner shifts in tears because she doesn't understand why people are expecting her to, you know, DO anything.
The rest of us are just kind of vibing and doing our work.
Which type am I missing? (And before anyone gets snarky: I'm good at serving. I have no complaints. My managers already know which employees I'm talking about and we all just laugh them off because, whatever. I get any shifts I want because they know I'm going to work.)